Page 108 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

The stone has blocked her once after recognizing her dark magic. That’s what it’s trying to tell me. But if she manages to force Ruskin to make her his heir, would it be able to resist her? I can’t take that risk. I need to stop her from being able to access the stone at all.

And I only have one way to do that.

I throw my magic outwards, searching out all the metal in the room. I pull it from the knife in my boot, the trinkets in my pockets, even the metal from Halima’s armor, offering her a silent apology as I do so. I tell myself she’d understand—and I leave her mother’s sword untouched. Some things are too sacred.

I go to the iron next, stripping it from the tendrils that snake across the floor, drawing it to me in a swirling, molten mass. It needs something more—something to make it truly impenetrable. The stone offers it up to me: the augium ore. I bleed some of it from the thick seam inside the stone, drawing tiny particles out from the porous surface, then reassembling it on the other side. I mix them all together, shaping them with my mind and my magic rather than with a flame and forge. Eventually, I’m left with a steel-like alloy, thick enough to coat the stone several times over. I start to layer it over the shining black surface of the founding stone. When I’m done it should be impenetrable by magic—immune even to Evanthe’s deadly iron attacks. Any attempt would risk damaging the stone itself and destroying its power.

“What are you doing!?” Evanthe hurls the question from across the room, her shriek making me jump. I risk glancing over to see her controlled demeanor cracking under a wave of horror. Her eyes are wide, flicking between me and the stone. Ruskin stops too, taking in the sight of the founding stone disappearing behind the thick shell of metal I’ve constructed.

“You foolish girl, what have you done?” Evanthe’s face hardens with anger, and she starts towards me, iron shoots lurching from the ground. My focus is elsewhere, and my magic occupied, and I can only try to dodge the iron as the shoots jerk about my feet, attempting to stab me with their sharp tips.

But as Evanthe charges towards me, a wave of pure power hits her, throwing her across the space. She hits one of the columns near me with an awful crack. The iron shoots immediately stop trying to impale me, and I look up to see Ruskin’s hand still raised from casting the spell. He’s stopped holding back.

I return my full attention to the stone, adding the last layer of protection I can muster from the metal around me. Then I stand back, releasing an unsteady breath, a wave of exhaustion hitting me.

Evanthe stumbles to her feet, looking shocked at Ruskin’s attack. Then her eyes fall on the stone, and she’s grief stricken, her beautiful face twisting with anger and sadness.

“No!” she shouts, kneeling in front of the lump of metal that houses the stone, placing a hand on it.

The floor of the chamber starts to collapse.

At least, that’s what I think is happening at first. It doesn’t take long to realize Evanthe is summoning so much iron that it looks like the entire floor is erupting. Ruskin reaches me in a few strides, but his face is pained as we’re surrounded by the iron’s poison. My magic is depleted, burned away from reviving Ruskin and protecting the stone, but I summon the last few ounces of my strength.

I can’t stop the iron, but I can clear a narrow path through the chamber, shoving the shoots aside. Ruskin lifts Halima’s body and we run back towards the passageways.

My muscles are screaming, my throat is burning, and I can only hold the pathway open a few feet at a time. I release my hold on the iron as we go, so that the pathway immediately closes behind us, the tendrils rushing back in to fill the gap mere inches from our heels.

It’s following us. I can tell without even looking over my shoulder—a writhing sea of gray spilling down the passageways after us.

We reach the surface, bolting down the corridor, only to meet a group of fae coming the other way—Destan and a squad of Halima’s guards.

Their faces pale as we sprint towards them, and I see Destan’s eyes fall on Halima’s body resting in Ruskin’s arms.

“Is that…?” he asks, like he can’t believe his eyes, his face crumpling.

“Run!” I shout, grabbing his arm and tugging him along with us. The guards follow suit, while the iron groans behind us, colliding with the palace walls and hitting corners with a terrible crunching noise.

“To the throne room,” Ruskin barks. The guards dart forwards to shove aside a huge stone door. We fling ourselves through it into the room beyond. I’ve never been here before, but I don’t have a chance to take it in, too focused on the wave of iron rushing down the hallway towards us. The guards throw their weight behind the door, but it’s closing too slowly, and the iron rushes closer.

Ruskin swiftly lays Halima down at the foot of the throne and then produces half a dozen branches, which add their force to the door, slamming it shut and blocking up the edges.

The iron hits the door with a thunderous bang and we instinctively back away from it. Then we wait, nerves on edge, wondering if the door will be enough to hold back the tide of destruction.

A grinding noise screeches against the stone, rising and then suddenly dying away.

Silence. I exchange a look with Ruskin, wondering if this is some kind of trap.

“Let me find out what’s happening,” I offer.

I reach out beyond the door, my exhausted magic limping towards the metal that lies beyond, trying to read it.

“They’re retreating,” I say in disbelief. “The tendrils, they’re going back the way they came.”

“That was more iron than she’s ever produced before,” Ruskin says. “I suppose even she has her limits.”

We crack open the door, then pull it wider when we see the corridor is indeed empty. Only deep gouges in the ground and door show that the tendrils were ever there.

“Go,” Ruskin says to the guards. “Evacuate the court. Tell them that it has been compromised and that Queen Evanthe has turned traitor. She’s not to be trusted.”

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